Treatise on Shakespeare

53

Some are born great
Some achieve greatness by repute
But us wise men know ourselves fools
And to our own selves be true
Loving all, trusting a few
Doing wrong to none

All the world is a stage
And with smiles we play our parts
The wheel will come full circle
Until the stars give ourselves back
Our destiny, to be great
And bleed, and tickle, and die

As surely as night must follow the day
Ignorance being the curse of God
Better to be a witty fool, than a foolish wit
Amused by the humour of our own minds
Some are born hearing comedy in their hearts
While others die many deaths of tragedy

If music be the food of love, play on
If body be the bread of pleasure, dip it flush
Full of sound and fury and a treasured youth
Into water, for joyful tears are all that is left
Parting is such sweet sorrow

Come, ladies and gentleman
Drinking down all unkindness done to us
May we still love the faults that made us blind
Aware and knowing of the floods that omitted fortune
Ah how a good human, does revere their own downfall.

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